


No need for Translation

by karkatslament



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, M/M, Probably smut in the future, Teacher AU, You Have Been Warned, jean being adorable while talking about his baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karkatslament/pseuds/karkatslament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco starts a new job at the prestigious Trost Academy, a high school full of rich kids, and apparently very hot teachers. His job as a Spanish teacher has one problem, his high school crush, Jean Kirschtien, is the French teacher across the hall. The two become friends quickly, but what does the future hold for them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No need for Translation

**Author's Note:**

> I do not speak Spanish, if there are any typos, let me know. I only know basic French so if there is any typos, let me know.
> 
> EDIT: I track the '#fic: no need for translation' tag so feel free to tag art inspired by this with it or even things you'd like to see in the fic!!!

Marco took a deep breath.

 

In.

Then out.

In.

Then out again.

 

                He opened his eyes and tapped his fingers against the desk in front of him. This was his first day as a language teacher at the beautiful Trost Academy. The old building reminded him of a church when he first walked in to the main foyer, the large stain glass windows along the small normal ones, letting in beautiful colors with the natural light. One of the things he also found beautiful was all of the dark wood. Yes, he liked dark wood. It was a lot nicer to look at than the dirty tiles of the last school he taught at, even if he only taught there for the year because their teacher unfortunately broke her hip.

 

                Marco still had twenty minutes before classes would commence and he had already reorganized his lesson plan for the day, sort of excited to teach Spanish to his new students. He also had made sure everything was neatly in place, and he had organized his desk, making himself at home behind the large desk, with the new laptop, stacks of folders, and drawers filled with new packages of pens, pencils, and other assorted office supplies he had picked up for his new job as Trost Academy’s Spanish teacher. Though he had been so set on busying himself, he had left himself with nothing to do for the next twenty minutes before students were supposed to file into his classroom. You could say he was a tad nervous.

 

                He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a sharp knock on the door, head whipping around to look at the door. In the doorway stood a tall, but not taller than him, man, possibly in his late twenties. His blond hair was cut into a undercut, the top long enough the be tied back into a small ponytail, which it was. That wasn’t the only think Marco Bodt noticed about the man leaning on the door frame of his classroom, oh no. The stranger was wearing a black vest, and a dark red button up shirt, matched with black pants that were so tight that they should be against the school dress code. “Can I help you?”

 

“ _Bonjour, Monsieur Bodt_.” The blond smirked and introduced himself, “I’m Jean Kirschtien, I’m a teacher here as well, and I hope we can get along.”

 

                Marco had been praying this wasn’t the French teacher who owned the classroom across the hall, but it seemed like no angel heard him because he was face to face with _Monsieur_ Kirschtien, Trost Academy’s French teacher.

 

“I hope we can as well.”

 

* * *

 

                Marco’s first period class went pretty well, not that he was expecting it to go _badly_. His students seemed to like him enough, asking questions about the schools he taught at before Trost Academy. Their bewildered faces when he described the state his past schools were in confused him at first but then he realized that most of his students had been attending prestigious academies since they started school, much like the one he was teaching at now. His second period class had been going well, at least for the first hour it was.

 

                Marco’s students were working on ‘ _Acerca de mí_ ’ worksheets like his class before had, filling in what they knew already along with their name and if they wanted, they could share what they did that summer. He had been sitting at his desk reviewing some worksheets planned for the next day, checking for any misprints, he always found them extremely annoying. Looking up to see if there were any questions about the worksheets assigned, he watched a certain lanky blond French teacher stroll in, a file folder tucked safely under his arm. Marco watched as the fellow teacher placed the file folder on the desk, then as he leaned on the desk, his back towards the class.

 

“May I ask you something, Mr. Bodt?”

Marco simply closed his planner and set the work for tomorrow in a neat pile on top of it, giving Jean a nod.

“How good is your French?” The Spanish teacher furrowed his brows before leaning back in his desk chair. Why would he be asking about how well he spoke French?

“I’m multilingual, Mr. Kirschtien. I speak English, Spanish, _and_ French.”

“ _Laisse aller à l' Pixis café aujourd'hui après l'école . Bien?” Let’s go to the Pixis café today afterschool. Okay?_

_“Oh, uh, bien.” Okay._

Had Jean just asked him out? No, of course not. Teachers invited other teachers out for coffee all the time. This was normal, Marco was just being ridiculous.

 

Marco watched as Jean pushed off the desk and headed for the door, watching the blond walk out before he backtracked into the room. He raised an eyebrow in question when he returned but his question was immediately answered with a string of French.

_“Je paierai.” I’ll pay._

* * *

 

                The folder Jean had dropped off was just some notices that most teachers had gotten before summer break started and he had the luck to be getting those two months late, new teacher and all. It was more or less boring stuff. Dress code, rules for dances, basic classroom rules, how to use the website for attendance, stuff he already knew. He didn't have to worry too much about dress code at the school, there was assigned uniforms but they could be accessorized with cardigans, scarves, and such. Jewelry was allowed too. They were surprisingly lax on rules about hairstyles which is usually unexpected in a private school but he guessed the school promoted self-expression even with uniforms.

 

                After classed had been dismissed, Marco was straightening his classroom up, picking up some papers that had been left on the floor. When he looked up, he met a pair of tawny eyes staring at him from the doorway. “Are you coming?” He crossed his arms as he waited for Marco to finish throwing away the crumpled paper and pack his things. As soon as Marco had his planner and laptop in his messenger, he made his way over to Jean.

“I thought you were kidding.”

“I don’t joke about coffee, Marco.”

That was the first time Jean had ever used Marco’s first name, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be the last.

* * *

 

                Marco had never been into this part of Trost, it was like a hipster’s wet dream. There were a few internet cafés, a record shop on the corner and a few thrift shops scattered the area. Among the internet cafés was the Pixis café, which was nestled between a small art gallery and a flower shop. Of course Jean would hang out in an area like this. He wasn't complaining though, the coffee smelled good as they walked and Jean had been nice enough to drive them over after finding out Marco didn't drive and only lived a few blocks from the school. Jean on the other hand lived in this area, a good twenty minute drive from Trost Academy.

 

                They ordered their coffees and once Jean paid like he had offered, they took a seat at a table that looked out the window. Marco couldn't complain about the view. The café was two floors, the first having seating and the counter to order, the second having seating, a small lounging area with some couches, and a few desktop computers set up at desks.  Each floor had a huge window that made up the street facing wall, but the view from the second story was obviously better if you didn't want to just people watch. From the second floor you could look down at the courtyard that the café was part of, the fountain in the middle of the cobblestone, and various modern art pieces that obviously attracted tourists of Trost to the area.

 

                Marco noted how Jean was staring out the window, twirling the spoon meant for stirring cream and sugar into his beverage between his fingers. His eyes were focused on something outside but Marco couldn't see what he was staring at. When his mind seemed like it was back in the café, Marco smiled across the table at him, taking a sip of his coffee. Just like he had assumed, the coffee was really good. When he looked over at Jean again, he watched as the blond put a mountain of sugar into his coffee. Not a fan of bitter flavors? That’s surprising. Marco would have suggested that he bought a tea instead if he was just going to pour a crap load of sugar into his coffee but he decided to keep his mouth shut as Jean seemed pretty serious about coffee with the way he confirmed that he wasn't joking about taking Marco out for coffee.  

 

“So, Jean, I can call you that right? Why’d you invite me out to coffee?”

“Yeah, we’re not at school anymore. I think it’s stupid we have to address each other by last name at school anyways.” Jean finished stirring his coffee and paused talking to take a sip of his coffee, “Also, I find you interesting. You’re a new teacher at a prestigious establishment and your students seem to like you. Like that doesn't happen often, Trost kids are little shits, especially the rich ones. Think they can get away with everything.”

“How do you know they like me? It’s only been one day.”

                “Marco, they were quiet when I walked in and the entire time I was talking to you. They either love having you as a teacher so far or they’re fucking terrified of you, and you don’t seem like the type to scare the crap out of your students.” Jean chuckled and ran a hand through his hair; the front of his undercut had fallen out of the ponytail and was falling in his face and near his ears. It was actually pretty attractive. Though now that Marco really got a look at him, Jean was a piece of fucking work. He had sharp features, golden eyes, and this shit eating smirk he wore almost all the time. This might be weird, but he had nice hands, probably a bit smaller than Marco’s and they were unblemished like taking care of his skin was one of his highest priorities.

 

                Pulling himself from his thoughts, Marco took another sip of his coffee, listening to Jean complain about how much his students pissed him off, and how he would always have to be careful about what he said because one of the administrators’ daughters was in his class and Mr. Ackerman would be on him like a bloodhound if he slipped up. Marco hadn’t really spoken to Mr. Ackerman much, Mx. Zoe was the one who had spoken to him over the phone and also had been the one who had introduced him to the school, including giving him a quick tour. From the way Jean described Mr. Ackerman, he sounded like a terrifying little man, and if he thought about it, having his daughter in his class would be terrifying.

 

                They sat like that for a while, discussing what Marco thought of the school and Jean’s own experience as a teacher there. There was apparently some unspoken rules between the teachers like don’t touch a certain box of tea in the staff room, bring your own mug, and stuff like that, and Jean filled him in on everything; even what happened if you ignored one of the rules. They shared a good laugh over the consequences. They had been sitting there for so long they didn’t realize the orange light that was now shining down on them as the sun started to set behind the stores. Their coffees were gone but they still sat, just talking, soon getting onto other topics like high school.

 

                Turns out they went to the same high school and had been part of the same graduating class. Jean had been prom king at their prom, with his girlfriend at the time as his prom queen.  Marco had understood why there was a twinge of recognition the first time they met. They didn’t have any classes together, but Jean had been on the football team and was pretty popular with the ladies, which was why Marco was surprised he hadn’t recognized him earlier. Maybe it was the hair, or the fact he had gotten ten times hotter since high school. Marco may or may not have had an insane crush on Jean back when they were sophomores, but that was done and over with, he never told Jean and he never was going to tell him about his awkward, uh, ‘Jean phase’ as he and his close friend, Armin, had called it.

 

                “How did things with Valerie end up? I don’t see a ring.” Marco motioned to the other’s left hand. Valerie had been Jean’s high school sweetheart, she had been a cheerleader and Jean had fit right in with her crowd. Valerie had been a bit of a ‘queen bee’ during their last two years of high school. She was tall, pretty, and had a smile that could kill. She had started as one of the ‘followers’ of the Queen bee of the school during her freshman and sophomore year, which was when Jean and her started dating, and when her sudden boost of popularity made her one of the most loved and hated girls in the school, by the time she was a Junior she was in fact the most popular girl in school and that crushed any dream Marco had of wooing Jean during high school.

                “Uh… Wow, long time since someone asked about her actually.” Oh no, that didn’t sound good. Jean rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. “We broke up a year ago actually, she had gotten pregnant and suddenly things were too real for her, I guess. She hadn’t planned to have a real future with me and finding out she was going to be having a baby, she couldn’t do it anymore. But, we talked and she said if she had the baby, I was the one who was going to take it and I was going to raise it without her. We broke up, officially, right after she had the baby. She didn’t want anything to do with our daughter.” He shrugged. If it had only been a year ago, then they had been together for like ten years? Why would she have stayed for ten years if she didn’t plan on marrying the guy?

“I’m so sorry, Jean.” Marco reached across the table and rested his hand on Jean’s. He couldn’t imagine that happening to him. Well, he had been single all through high school and since then as well, living with Armin as housemates.

                “It’s alright, I mean, I've been a dad for a year now. Valerie hasn’t shown up which has helped and my neighbor is a god sent angel, I swear. She babysits for me so I can run errands and work. She and her girlfriend don’t mind if I’m out the entire day as long as I call ahead.” He smiled as he talked about his neighbors, and they started talking about his daughter. “Her name is Laura Isabelle Kirschtien. I named her myself. She’s got these huge green eyes and the curliest blonde hair I’ve ever seen on a one year old.” Jean’s smile grew fonder as he described his daughter. He even showed a picture of her to Marco with the biggest smile had ever seen on him yet.

 

                When it had gotten dark out, they finally ventured back to Jean’s car. Their conversation had shifted from Jean’s daughter to what Marco had been doing in high school because Jean had asked why he had never seen him around. He didn’t want to admit to himself that it hurt when Jean asked, it meant that the boy he had been pining after during high school literally didn’t realize he existed until they were twenty seven years old and literally working across the hall from one another. Marco went into some lame explanation that he hadn’t been in any clubs during high school and hadn’t been very popular either. In the four years he was in high school, Marco had maybe two friends, one of which was in common with Jean, meaning he didn’t see her very often as she usually snuck off during lunch to pull pranks with her boyfriend, Connie, and Jean. This left him with Armin. His one true friend since high school.

 

                Jean accepted that as his answer as they drove towards where Marco had described his place to be. When they pulled onto Marco’s street, he was quick to point out the small home squished between two other houses. The hedges were neatly cut and a metal gate out front. When Jean pulled up in front of the house, he peered out the passenger side window at it. “It’s cute.”

“Huh?”

“Your house is cute; it looks like a nice little place. Do you live alone?”

“Oh, no, I don’t. I live with Armin; he went to high school with us. Armin Arlert?”

Jean nodded at this, he seemed to have remembered the blond boy, and maybe they had friends in common or something because if Armin was friends with Jean during high school, Marco would have known.

 

                After an awkward silence, Marco thanked Jean for the coffee and slid out of the car to stand on the curb. He rested the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder and gave a small wave before going to close the door. “Wait. Can you give me your number? I’ll text you mine.” Jean’s eyes were focused on the road as he fished his phone out of his pocket then only looked down to unlock it and open a new contact, offering the device to Marco to type his details into. Marco obliged and also typed in his address just in case, he assumed Jean couldn’t see the house number from where he was sitting and he was surprised he had found the street so easily.

 

                Marco passed the phone back to Jean before giving him another goodbye and closing the door of the car. He pushed through the gate, smiling when he felt a vibration in his pocket. When Marco actually got inside and said his hellos to Armin, he did a little happy dance in their main hallway. A question of why he was so happy sent Marco into a full blown play by play of his day, and how he had met his high school crush for coffee. Armin had stood there listening, sipping his tea from his favorite mug, smiling.

 

Once Marco had calmed down a bit and ate some of the dinner Armin had so nicely prepared, he checked his text, creating a new contact for it before actually reading it.

 

**From: Monsieur Jean**

**See u tomorrow**

 

Marco smiles at his phone and Armin quirks an eyebrow at him from over his book from across the dinner table.

‘Jean Kirschtien, I think I love you.’ It was a silent promise that Marco thought to himself and himself alone.


End file.
